


The End of Days

by amoleofmonsters



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoleofmonsters/pseuds/amoleofmonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They’ve been at this for months, traveling from one end of the country to the other, desperate to find something or someone. It’s all they have anymore and it’s all that keeps either of them going."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of Days

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this short AU fic that I wrote. I'm not that happy with it and I wrote half of it slightly sick so it's probably all sorts of messed up, but I figured I'd share it with all of you. I didn't really know how to end this, either, so it's a pretty awkward ending. I thought about not posting it, but then it'd just end up rotting on my hard drive.

The street is silent, broken down buildings traveling as far as the eye can see. All over the street, there are cut power lines and cluttering debris. The only tree for miles is lying on its side, its branches fanning out all around. It looks like there haven’t been people living there for years. The sad truth is only six months ago this was a bustling metropolis. 

Tim Drake sits on the hood of a car, his gaze fanning over the apocalyptic site in front of him. His stare is calculating and unemotional as if he was reading over a mission report back at the bat cave. He takes notice of another car parked at the end of the road. It seems as if the windows have been smashed open and what looks like a hunched over figure is in the front seat. Tim makes a mental note not to get too close. 

He has had years and years of bat training, but he’s sure that nothing could have prepared him for the last few months.

Behind him, Tim hears a soft clunk, but he doesn’t turn around. He knows exactly who it is because there isn’t any one else. There hasn’t been in six months. The figure moves to sit next to Tim and says, “There’s nothing here. At least I couldn’t sense any heart beats.” 

Tim says nothing at first and Conner moves to put his arm around his boyfriend, but Tim stands up and jumps off the hood of the car before Conner gets the chance. “Lets keep moving. They’re clearly not here.” 

Conner contemplates starting up a discussion. He knows Tim is frustrated beyond belief. They both are. They’ve been at this for months, traveling from one end of the country to the other, desperate to find something or someone. It’s all they have anymore and it’s all that keeps either of them going. It’s all that has kept Tim functioning. 

Despite all of this, Conner simply stands up and follows Tim into the car. Tim waits until Conner is comfortably situated before turning the key and starting the ignition. There are a few false starts, but eventually Tim manages to get the car going. The crappy minivan is nothing like the high-class cars he was used to back at Gotham, but they have little alternatives. For a car they hijacked from the side of the road, it’s been doing well. 

Tim drives the car towards the city limits and pretty soon they find themselves on the highway again, endless green spreading out all around them. This is a sight they’ve grown far too accustomed to recently. Both Tim and Conner know they should settle down soon since they have been traveling for the past day and a half and their pursuers should be long behind them now. They need to find a small area – a rest stop or something – to buckle down for the night. In the city, they would be like sitting ducks, but a rest stop would give them the space that they need. 

After what feelings like an hour of driving, Tim pulls the car into an easy stop and Conner looks up from his half nap. They’re parked in front of a broken down Olive Garden, the decaying sign on its last hinges. A few of the windows seem to be boarded up, but the rest of them have been smashed in. It looks like all of the other places they’ve set up camp in and Conner briefly wonders how long has it been since it’s been occupied.

Rubbing away the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, he steps out of the jeep to see Tim picking up a gun from the trunk, his utility belt already strapped around his waist. The ex-Robin closes the trunk of the car and leads the way to the Olive Garden, Conner stepping in line behind him. They make their way over to a broken window and Tim shines a flash light in. “I think it’s clear,” he says and pulls open the door to the establishment. 

The building is dusty and disturbed, tables ripped apart and chairs in pieces. Broken glass litters the ground, some from glasses and some from the ceiling lights. Pieces of ceramic and bent utensils are also abundant. Two feet in front of them is a ripped up menu. 

A long time ago, a place like this would have unnerved Conner, but not anymore.

The next hour is spent clearing an area in the middle of the store to sleep in, barring the door and windows with the broken furniture, and bringing in their bags from the car. There isn’t much anymore: a back pack for each of them, the odd weapon or two scattered across the car, and a bag of canned food that is slowly running out as the days go on. Tim and Conner briefly check the establishment for anything they could make a meal of, but all they find is a spoiled can of alfredo sauce. Conner briefly contemplates eating it anyway, but Tim takes the can away from him and chucks it out the window. 

That night, the temperature drops somewhere into the fifties and Tim pulls Conner in for a kiss. His lips are chapped and Conner’s are not. Tim almost hesitates in continuing the kiss, but he feels Conner push his tongue into his mouth and all possible insecurities wash away. Tim shivered, not quite sure if it’s from cold or from something else. In any case, he pulls Conner forward, pressing himself against his clone boy. Their tongues dance against each other, begging for more. Tim drags his hands under Conner’s shirt, running them over his boyfriend’s chest. 

What happens next is a blur. Buttons are undone and flies are pulled open. Tim feels Conner cup him and he moans slightly into their kiss, quite enough that Conner almost misses it. His voice urges on Conner and the meta increases his ministrations. He pulls Tim free and Tim shivers as the cold air hits his cock. Refusing to be useless, Tim pulls on Conner’s belt. Very soon, they’re tugging on each other, their movements haphazard and desperate. 

Ever since they initially left Gotham, Tim and Conner have had only sporadic moments like this. It’s usually in dirty rest stop areas where they’re desperate for each other’s touch. Tim doesn’t remember the last time they’ve been together properly. It must have been five months ago, the last time that they managed to find a proper hotel room. He misses it much more than he would like to admit.

Tim feels pressure building and with a shudder, he releases himself onto Conner’s hand. The half Kryptonian quickly follows, coating Tim’s smaller hand. Tim feels himself being pulled closer into Conner’s lap. He presses his face into Conner’s shoulder and wills himself to calm down. They breathe heavily into each others ears, drinking in their shared warmth. 

 

When they wake up the next morning, they can tell something is instantly wrong. Everything is far too quite. Tim finds himself waking up first, wrapped in Conner’s arms. His eyes flicker open and he feels the sun shine on his face through the planks covering the nearest window. Tim snuggles back into Conner’s arms before his eyes rip back open. He sits up, ignoring Conner’s sleepy groans, and shoves his boyfriend. “Conner. We have to go. Now,” hisses Tim. Without waiting for Conner to get up himself, Tim begins stuff their scattered belongings into their bags. Behind him, he hears Conner stand up.

“Tim, what’s going on?” demands Conner, shaking the sleep from his eyes. 

“I have a bad feeling. We should leave as fast as we can,” explains Tim. Having finished packing, he tosses Conner his backpack. Without another wrong, the two of them run out of the Olive Garden. Tim slides into the driver’s seat of the minivan and starts the car, the engine roaring to life. They pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Suddenly, Tim slams his foot on the breaks, eyes wide. 

All around them, the rotting, dragging corpses stumble. They are set to kill and their prey is Tim and Conner. The closest of the mob manage to make it to the hood of the minivan and start clawing and biting at the exterior. Seeing no other option, Tim slams the car into reverse. The zombies on the hood of the car get thrown back and the force of the throw takes out a few more, but the entirety of the hoard still advances. 

Tim drives the car back into Olive Garden to buy them a few seconds, the wall of the establishment crumbling. Tim leans back to try and grab hold of his gun while Conner steps out of the car, blasting a row of the closest zombies with his heat vision. The zombies crumble and Conner continues firing, taking out row after row. For every row that Conner takes out, twice as many zombies seem to take their place. Their decaying limbs trail along behind them and a horrific odor fills the air. Tim manages to grab hold of the gun and fires gunshot after gunshot into the crowd, but his use of the weapon is awkward at best. Tim has been trained primarily in hand-to-hand combat and doesn’t particularly like the feel of a gun in his hands, but what other choice does he have? If he fought as he did conventionally, he would be dead in minutes. That was how Bruce went. 

With every passing minute, the oncoming storm seems to get worse and worse and there is no end in sight. The zombies, grunting and snarling, keep advancing on them. As powerful as Conner is, his heat vision couldn’t be kept up forever. In front of Tim’s eyes, Conner seems to get weaker and it looks as if Conner is fully aware of this. 

“What are we going to do?” asks Tim, echoing both of their fears. Conner stops his heat vision and grabs Tim, hoisting him into his arms. The gun clatters from Tim’s arms as he yelps in protest. He knew fully well what Conner was doing, but he fears that his boyfriend isn’t strong enough to get away with Tim in tow. 

The zombies are on them in seconds. Conner kicks off into the air and prays that he moved fast enough. He flies as fast as his power allows him and doesn’t look back until the hoard is a speck in the distance. Even then, he flies for as long as his energy lets him and then sets down hundreds of miles away from the hoard. Tim has a vice-like grip on him and Conner goes into panic mode. He places Tim onto the ground and instantly sees the problem. A bloody gash travels down his leg starting from his knee and ending at his ankle. His pants are shredded to bits around it and there are bite marks everywhere. One of the zombies had managed to rip away some muscle causing Tim’s bone to peak out. Conner knew he wasn’t the smartest guy around, but even he could tell that Tim had lost use of that limb.

Somehow, that wasn’t the biggest problem at that moment. 

“I got bitten,” says Tim weakly. He gives Conner the most heartbreaking look and Conner doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tim make that look before.

Conner pushes back some of Tim’s sweat stained hair and says, “Don’t speak. Save your energy.” 

“I got bitten,” repeats Tim, ignoring Conner’s suggestion. His voice is stronger this time, but it’s a sharp deadpan. “You know what you have to do.” 

Conner shuts his eyes for a few seconds, anger coursing through him. None of this was fair. Tim and he were supposed to catch up to Dick’s group, end the zombies, rebuild civilization, and then grow old together. Tim was his whole world. When he finally opens his eyes again to look at Tim, he says, “I can’t do that. You know I can’t.” 

“You have to. Otherwise, I’ll try to kill you. In a few hours, I’ll be one of them,” says Tim, his eyes begging. He and Conner both know there’s no reversing this. They had tried with Bruce, Bart, Stephanie, and many others, but the results were always the same. The best thing to do with someone who had been bitten was to give him or her a quick death. “Remember that I love you,” says Tim, giving Conner his best smile. It’s clear to Conner that it’s a fake one. 

“I love you, too,” says Conner and he knows there are tears falling down his face. He closes his eyes, unable to look at Tim any longer. He pulls back his fist and swings as hard as he can. There is a sickening crunch and Conner feels a sticky warmth travel up his arm. He pulls back his hand and finally opens his eyes. Tim looks back at him, his face expressionless and his blue eyes staring back completely devoid of life. Tim’s torso is split open and his blood spreads out around him like a crimson flower.

The fire is exceptionally large that night. 

 

Conner stands over a gorge two months later, looking over the crawling, grotesque picture. They have rounded up what they believe to be the entire zombie population and Kory is on the other side of the ridge, just about ready to send everything below up in flames. Around Conner are Dick, Wally, and Cassie, looking down with expressions of relief. Other heroes surround the gorge, ready for the end. They had finally won. The road ahead would be a tough one and they would be struggling to rebuild all they had lost, but at the very least, there was no more running. Things could finally start going back to normal.

Conner couldn’t help but remember all that they had lost. He remembered Tim, Tim with his beautiful blue eyes. Tim who would stay up until all hours of the night hunched over his laptop. Tim who always kissed so passionately, loved so powerfully, and lost so much. Tim was so mind-blowingly brilliant. Tim was his best friend, his boyfriend, and his world. Tim had been his Robin.

With little warning, the zombies go up in flames. The rotting stench that had become so familiar to Conner morphs into a toxic, burning odor. He jerks backwards, covering his face. It is the most horrid smell that he had ever faced and he knows he will never forget it. A few tears prickle the corners of his eyes, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of the smell or because of how much he misses Tim. 

Dick catches Conner’s expression and walks over to pat him on the shoulder. Conner knows that Dick understands, that he misses Tim as much as Conner does. It doesn’t make up for much and it won’t bring Tim back, but Conner knows he isn’t alone. Dick had always cared about Tim even if he had a funny way of showing it sometimes. 

Conner knows that he’ll never forget Tim, he’ll always miss him, and he’ll never be the same, but maybe he can be okay.


End file.
